Ah, what a lovely first week in my new home.  I’ve been spending much time (in addition to that spent in the previous post) adjusting to the time zone and eating LOTS of falafel.  I fully intend to obtain expert knowledge of every falafel-serving culinary establishment in the city, and have found it to be my explicit duty to eat as much of it as possible in order to gain that critical objectivity one needs to properly make decisions of taste, value, originality and creativity in these matters.  So the other night I ate about three of them (all at different places, you see) in the span of two hours.  E has warned me that I’ll get sick of it, but I don’t know, it’s so good . . . well, I guess I did say the same thing about sushi and I certainly got sick of that after a while.

Anyway, this past weekend we took a trip with E’s parents to Lake Balaton, the largest lake in Central Europe and a beautiful place.  Although the lake water was too cold to swim, we did take a dip in a thermal pond close by, which is famed for its health-enhancing mineral waters.  We also visited a really old abbey, a winery (mmm . . . hic!) and a volcanic crater turned quarry.  They had a somewhat interesting display of rocks that had been excavated and dated to represent the changing nature of the earth’s crust over the past, oh, 400 million years or so.  I have now touched, smelled and taken pictures of something that is older than imaginably possible.  Think of all the things this rock has witnessed, from the primordial soup of before time, the first plants and organisms, the dinosaurs, Adam, Eve, the flying spaghetti monster, the Crusades, the protestant reformation, man on the moon, Jefferson Airplane and the ipod!  Our 80 or so year lives are but a blink in comparison.  In the end, I observed soberly, it’s still a rock. 

Lake Balaton, Hungary

We took a little walk up the crater rim and I observed a sign reading “Durchang Verboten” which after my incorrect pronunciation (”der-chang ver-boat-en”) I learned means “crossing forbidden” in German.  For the rest of the weekend E’s father would address every sentence to me with the words “durchang verboten”, incorrectly pronounced, inserted at the beginning, end, or both (as in, “now we go to the winery, durchang?”), and to which I happily responded in kind with as strong a German accent I could muster (”Verboten.  Let’s get liquored up!”). 

440 Millio ev = 440 Million years, son.

Durchang Verboten

Other highlights of the lake included the food, with lots of nice freshwater fish dishes and the fact that it was paprika harvesting season.  Oh, and E’s dad drives really fast (in a Ford diesel sedan, wtf?).  Like, 190km/hr.  More on that another time, durchang?

Arrival in Budapest none too eventful.  Came extremely close to missing my connecting flight in Paris due to Air France negligence.  We sat on the tarmac (at the gate, no less) for 30 minutes before they even let us get off the flying coffin from Boston, then we sat for another 15-20 minutes for a non-existent shuttle bus.  With my connection just 10 minutes from departing I starting cursing and interrogating anyone in a uniform on how to get to my departure gate.  I ended up having to pass through customs and passport control, running like a madman around the poorly signposted De Gaulle Airport, tripping over sprawled luggage and small children, once again passing through passport control (I now have a stamp saying I left France, although not one indicating I entered it) and security before arriving at my gate in a sweaty, disheveled and cursing mess to completely calm and uninterested Air France personnel calling over the intercom that Flight 321 to Budapest was “ter-min-ay”.  I was the last one through the gate to the bus, and upon boarding was promptly informed (for once) that our window for takeoff was delayed 45 minutes and would we just sit back and relax.

But yes, I got there.  Four hours before leaving I was swimming in a pond on a beautiful day; upon arrival I was swimming in delirium and wet with rain.  Oh yeah, I’m on the other side of the world again.  E was there to pick me up and we made like bandits (well, on the bus) for her flat in the 9th district downtown.  One of these days once I understand it, I’ll write a bit about the geography of Budapest.  I was pretty jet lagged, but I made an effort to appear the contrary, and we went to see a movie, at which I abruptly fell asleep.

On Thursday I had the chance to participate (with my super-cool new racing bike, no more ubiquitous-gray mama-chari for me!) in a huge rally in support of bicycle riding and alternative transport called Critical Mass.  Originally begun in San Francisco in the early 90’s, the leaderless movement has spread across the globe and now represents many different points of view, from environmentalists to anti-war to people just sick of traffic jams and parents who want safer riding conditions for their children.  Indeed, there was a quite varied mix of attendees (among the 20,000+ who showed up at this bi-annual Budapest event) from dreaded hippies to spandex-and-helmet-clad gear heads to makeshift musicians on double bikes to little kids on tricycles.  The weather was cool and clear, and the circuitous path well chosen to highlight the major areas of the city.  However, if one point was to prove to motorized traffic that bicycling can be faster, it was lost, as with little exception we might as well have been walking and pushing the bikes.  All in all, a great way to see the city, meet some people, and feel good.  Get on a bike!

The final days before setting off on another big adventure to foreign lands can often be anticlimactic, but this time I think it’s been a relief.  No scrambles to see one more person, get one more thing done, drink one more beer.  The difference between the now- finished packing, no more e-mails, just sun and smiles and driving around- and later- no sleep on a plane, stressing the connecting flights, entering a new culture and world that I know nothing about- is on my mind but not overbearing, as if, well, yes I have done this all before.  I’ve spent some hot afternoons out at White Pond, sipping Eye of the Hawk and talking about old and new times with a good friend.  I’ve been out on these cooler nights, eating great food with great people and making plans for things to come.  It’s a bit of a honeymoon with time, however.  I’ve been back in the states just long enough to do the essentials of seeing friends and catching up while also relaxing and planning for the next stage of life, but at the same time I’m jobless, feeling a bit unproductive and not quite thrifty enough with the little savings I have from Japan.  I’m rested, relaxed and ready for the next step.  And in just another 24 hours or so I’ll take it.

This serves as a tardy entry on ideas evoked by the fourth anniversary of the September 11, 2001 attacks in New York and Washington that, for better or worse, have changed the course of world events and ushered in a new era of human development. On that clear morning I had awoken early for Japanese class and clearly remember arriving in the classroom where two faculty members I did not know were watching a small TV and talking about a plane flying into the World Trade Center tower. Assuming it was some freak accident involving a small private craft, I did not think much of it, and soon the tube was switched off and class begun. Next I had another class, and while talk was growing more excited, no one had a full idea of what was going on and we continued with our studies. I spent the rest of the day huddled in my room with others on the floor, glued to the television and repeatedly questioning our state of consciousness. It was truly surreal, unbelievable, and most certainly “like a movie“.

Four years, two wars, one election, thousands of American and tens of thousands of Afghani and Iraqi deaths later, in what ways have things changed? We have certainly seen that security issues have become the number one concern of Americans, whether they be in New York, Los Angeles, or Nowhereville, USA. Our civil liberties have been curtailed without clear indication of when they will be restored, and despite the billions spent on “homeland security and preparation for disaster”, the Katrina disaster has clearly demonstrated the lack of effectiveness of that program. The economy is slowing, the deficit is soaring, world opinion of us is terrible, and any higher moral ground we gained from that day of lost innocence has since been shamefully squandered in the cynical ambitions of a cadre of puppets and war profiteers.

(more…)

I drove just over 1000 miles (not km) in the last week, from Boston to Maine to NYC to South Jersey and back to Boston.  Camry whip averages 23 miles per gallon and with gas prices averaging 3 bucks a gallon . . . well you can do the math but it’s a fistful of dollars fo sho’.  I’ve realized after being car-less in Japan for the last year that I don’t really like driving, especially alone.  I would just rather go to sleep in the back seat and let someone else deal with the traffic.  Of course, riding a motorcycle is still a relatively new experience for me, so that hasn’t lost its appeal.  I had to sell the Yamaha 250 back in Japan and due to it’s terrible condition (dead battery, cracking front fork seals, thin brake pads) and the lack of time between my flight back from Bali and my departure for the US, I got basically nothing for it.  And because of that dead battery, for the last 36 hectic hours of life in Japan I had to push start the damn thing, which entails putting it in third gear, pushing (all 300+ lbs of) it as fast as possible, jumping on, releasing the clutch and hoping the damn thing would start, which usually took 3 or more tries.

Anyway, New York is as amazing as ever.  Expensive, but I guess I’m used to that now.  Maybe one day I’d like to live there for a while, but every time I think of it I get this feeling like I will never understand the REAL New York, which I suppose is something you have to grow up into.  I think that running around my town as a little kid I learned more about the place than I ever would as an adult.  In New York I hung with my buddy who we’ll call P.Diddy now that Puff Daddy is officially called just “Diddy”.  He recently read a book called “How to Succeed with Women” and has subsequently been quite lucky with the ladies.  It also turned him into an arrogant misogynist, which I know he really is not.  I guess that’s what women want.  We hit up a crazy hardcore party in the middle-of-nowhere-Brooklyn which was billed as a benefit for the Hurricane Disaster victims but looked a lot more like the hurricane itself.

Next I hit South Jersey and spent some long hours waxing political with my Aunt, Uncle and cousins.  These days it’s hard to talk for more than five minutes before Bush or the war or some injustice come up.  I asked for perspective on previous dark times in the socio-political fabric of America, and was given a reminder that things in the Vietnam days were a lot worse than they are now.  But let’s not try and outdo that, yes Mr. Bush?

I leave for Budapest, Hungary on September 19th.  Check here for what that will look like.  I’ll get to the details of that sometime soon.  But now, it’s off to swim in beautiful White Pond!

As referred to in the previous post and in this one’s title, I’ve been having a lot of fun messing around with my new camera. A couple words on film vs. digital:  I have always enjoyed shooting film, especially black and white and feel strongly that in that color range (or lack thereof) I would always choose to develop and print my own work myself, for reasons including but not limited to the fact that most photo shops are crappy and too expensive.  Color film processing and printing is a whole different ballgame that I know little about, and in general I find black and white to be more artistic simply because it divorces our perception of reality from the hang-me-on-a-wall product.  With color you’re looking for the familiar, the reality of the subject matter because you see things like it every day.  I guess one could take this as a challenge to produce something truly spectacular, and in color, but tell that to Adams or Cartier-Bresson.  Hence, for color shooting, digital far outweighs film and an SLR is my only possible choice (over a point-and-shoot) in said category. I have to keep telling myself this to avoid recalling the price tag.

But aside from the price (I did get it probably $250 cheaper in Singapore, thanks for the advice, E), I’ve been having trouble getting used to the actual gluttony of using the thing.  I’m so used to having limited rolls, limited frames, one film speed, biding my time and rationing my shots that it’s hard to believe the shot counter saying I have 293 frames left.  But after a couple weeks of convincing myself to “just take a million photos” I’m coming to realize the true downfall of digital, which is that you have to do a LOT more editing.  And of course more pictures means the necessity of more hard drive space, which fortunately is getting cheaper bit-by-bit (hyuck, hyuck).  I’m terrible at editing mostly because I take pictures both for their compositional quality or originality and also for their emotional content, which often means nothing to the viewer.  And maybe that’s why I prefer photography over painting - because it’s far easier to create than destroy.  Truly the artistic medium of the optimist.  Or do I mean lazy pessimist?

As for subject matter, I wont say that I’ve been really pushing the envelope as far as composition, due to the fact that I am still trying to figure out how one (of many) metering modes works, but I have been trying to take shots of a range of subjects.  Again, my problem with editing is often emotional, in that during the time between when I took a photo, download it, and then decide whether or not it makes one of several rounds of cuts, I forget why in the hell it was that I took certain pictures.  Deceptively, my flummoxed memory doesn’t make it easier to shift-delete these weird ones, because I know I had some great idea in mind when I took it.  One thing I’ve been noticing in connection to culture shock is that I am taking pictures sort of as a “tourist” in that I don’t feel yet as if this is my country, or that I will be here for a long time, which I guess I won’t.  I have a sense of things being distinctly fleeting.  Anyway, this is a pretty boring post, I admit, so I will leave off here.